Chapter 4
“Ican’t believe you ate my leftovers before we even walked out the door.” Demarien glared at Milo. “That had to be against your portions rule or whatever you call it.”
Milo gave him a sheepish look. “I was hungry.”
Puck chuckled from the driver's seat of his crew cab truck. “You ate a third of my maple salmon, too.”
“It’s not fair,” Demarien slid into the rear bench seat and shut his door. “I almost puked when they brought out Dad’s fish and chips. Why don’t you hate food right now?”
Milo groaned. “Do you think I want to eat everything in sight? I’m only two weeks pregnant. Why the hell do I already want to eat a whole cow? It’s not possible, right?”
Puck laughed and pulled out behind Felix’s van. “If I have to have mood swings, then it’s only fair that Mr. Health Nut can’t stop eating.”
Demarien watched Felix turn his own truck toward Abuela’s house. They had left their pets with Felix’s grandmother so they could have lunch at Sammie’s. Milo’s cats, Puck’s dog, and Demarien’s sweet basset hound, Brownie, got along well with Abuela and her birds.
He winced. “Shit. We forgot to get Felix his guinea pig.”
Puck slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I got too wrapped up thinking about the move and getting pregnant.” His eyes watered. “Felix didn’t say anything either. He never asks for anything, but he told us he wanted a guinea pig. We’re the worst friends in the world.”
Milo patted Puck’s leg. “Hold the tears, drama llama. We’ll get him a guinea pig this week. Don’t worry.”
Puck swallowed hard. “He’s so sad about the last IUI failing. He needs some happiness.”
Demarien watched the bay as they drove up the winding road leading to their new home.
He wished he could do something to help Felix.
Omegas were extremely fertile, especially with alphas.
It had helped Demarien and the others become pregnant quickly through simple insemination. Felix hadn’t been so lucky.
“What the actual fuck?” Milo leaned forward, staring out the windshield.
Demarien leaned between the front seats and stared at the gate leading to the estate. He remembered riding his bike through the tall wrought-iron archway as a kid. Red climbing roses had spread over the sides of the arch, and well-kept flower beds had lined the sides.
Now the gates were rusty and closed, while the archway was covered in dry, overgrown brush.
“Why didn’t Bernard keep up the entrance?” Demarien asked, frowning.
Milo’s face went hard, but he didn’t say anything. He jumped out and opened the gate so they could drive through.
The house was worse than the gate. It was also overgrown - everything was overgrown - but the massive brick manor showed serious damage.
Shutters hung lopsided, and shingles dotted the ground, leaving bare spots on the roof.
The front picture window was missing several panes of glass, and one corner of the expansive front porch had caved in, causing the porch roof to sag.
“I don’t understand.” Demarien licked his suddenly dry lips. “Why didn’t Bernard fix this? How did it get so bad?”
Milo stared at the house, eyes pure dark stone. “Five years of no upkeep shouldn’t have done this.”
They left the car, and Demarien followed the others into the house.
He barely held back tears at the sight of the once beautiful foyer.
The hardwood floors were rough, the wallpaper peeling, and all the artwork that had once decorated the walls was gone, leaving bare spots in the heavy layer of dust.
They stayed silent as they spread out.
Demarien went straight to the large kitchen, which held so many fond memories for him. It was as bad as the foyer. The appliances were missing, and the cabinet doors hung open, a few torn from their hinges.
Two of the windows were broken, and a dark red chicken sat on the large, heavy wooden island in the middle of the room. The chicken cocked her head and squawked softly.
“Oh, god.” Demarien covered his mouth, eyes filling with tears. A squeak made him spin around, and he barely saw a mouse butt disappear behind a fallen chair. “No, no, no.”
He slowly made his way to the foyer again. Milo and Puck were already there. “I checked the front sitting rooms, and any art and furniture of value are gone,” Milo said, voice rough. “I imagine the other three floors are like this, too.”
“The greenhouse is completely torn down, and someone bulldozed the gardens,” Puck said, closing his eyes for a moment. “Bernard wasn’t just lazy. He went out of his way to ruin this place.”
The front door opened, and Brownie and Piko, Puck’s three-legged German Shepard, ran inside, barking excitedly. Felix followed with Milo’s two cats, face ashen as he looked around. “What happened?”
Brownie gave Demarien a concerned woof and ran to him, long ears bouncing with each step.
Demarien knelt and hugged his dog. “There’s a chicken in the kitchen. A live chicken.”
Felix released a deep breath. “Okay. What are we going to do?”
“We all quit our jobs,” Milo said, turning away from them. “I’m so sorry, guys. I pulled you all into this mess.”
“Now who’s being a drama llama?” Puck slapped Milo’s ass, making him jump and glare at their friend. Puck raised a brow. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. We can fix this.”
“We have to,” Felix said, voice soft. “This is our dream.”
Demarien nodded and cupped a hand over his abdomen. Perfect time to get pregnant. Really. Perfect, he thought to himself, already listing all the work he would need to do to the kitchen.
“Is it?” Milo asked, shoulders slumping. “There’s no way we can have this place opened by summer.”
Demarien looked at his friends and thought about the flash of a dream he’d had. Their kids would grow up here and be best friends. They would make this work.
“We can do this,” Demarien said. “We’re together, right? That’s all that matters.”
Milo ran his hands through his dark hair and gave them a reluctant smile. “You’re right. That’s all that matters. Let’s go to Aunt Dahlia’s office. Maybe Bernard left a note explaining this.”
Demarien focused on Puck’s back to avoid looking at the rest of the ransacked rooms as they followed Milo to the back of the house. Brownie trotted at his side, unconcerned, tongue lolling.
The silence was depressing, and something really stunk, making his stomach churn.
“I call the beach house, by the way.” He covered his nose to try to lessen the stench in the hallway and told himself not to think too hard about the shape the beach house would be in. “The one closest to the cove.”
Felix took his free hand and squeezed it. “I call the lighthouse. That’s where my gloryhole is anyway.”
Milo snickered. “You love your gloryhole.”
“I call the cabin farthest from the house,” Puck said. “I’ll need somewhere to get away from you weirdos.”
“I’ll take the top flo—” Milo yelped, stopping in place.
Puck ran into him, and they stumbled forward into the office.
Demarien’s eyes widened as he saw someone on the floor in front of the large, ornate desk. The stench suddenly made sense as he noted the discolored skin.
Milo spun back toward them, clutching Puck to him. “That’s Bernard. He’s dead. Oh, my god, there’s a dead body in my house.”
Demarien fumbled his phone from his pocket and pulled Felix behind him as he ran toward the front of the house, Brownie on his heels. Milo and Puck almost knocked him over as they followed.
He dialed his dad’s number, unsure of the police department’s number. “Dad? I need your help.”